The Forgotten Warden
by Nommy
Summary: The epilogue to an adventure that was never written. Never remembered. An envision of the Warden's last thoughts in the Deep Roads before their Calling. AU.


Epilogue

The Deep Roads; the yawning caverns press imposingly on me just as keenly as they did then. The huge towering hallways still echo with the dreaded bellows of the Archdemon, so much so that if I strain my pointed ears I can still hear its deafening roars. I shiver at the thought, the almost-sound, and my eyes are drawn back to the flickering fire which licks and sparks before me. The sounds of the darkspawn rattle through these halls, it could come from miles away; carried on the airless atmosphere, echoic and drawn out . They could be coming from miles, from anywhere in these long, ill-used and ill-kept passages so there is no need to heed them at this particular point in time and even if I were to heed them; I would welcome the onslaught for I have nothing to fear, I am here for one purpose and one purpose alone.

_Alone_.

Isolation has become nature to me now, stripped away from me, my need for solace in another's company has been, from my very being it has been gone a long time; given with great regret and sorely, bitterly missed. But necessary, for what else could have been done? It is a thin, misbegotten means of consoling and it does not work but I have told myself that it does. I can discard it here and feel the loneliness. Here it is safe to feel; up there...it is not. On the surface I always had to keep to the shadows, the purpose of which seems evident to anyone who knows my story, knows me; but they do not and I have been forgotten like I knew I always would be. Wynne, long dead now – obviously – Maker rest her soul, said in her wisdom that the people of Ferelden would remember me and my sacrifice; how little she knew of a common man and his struggles. Regular people, ignorant people do not remember old soldiers, random acts which were witnessed by few and spread by many, they remember what they can see on a daily basis, what can be embellished and passed on. They don't remember me.

They'll never remember my sacrifice, for I made many and even I do not remember them all. I recall one however. One which still cuts deep enough to give me a peek at the bone beneath the skin and flesh; haunts and soothes me at the same time, it is a horrible ailment and one which I have shouldered with only one other. We did not share in this pain together though, we did not shirk our duty to our callings but still the agony of it is still intense just as it was then – if not, more so.

My eyes close; droop even, and I jump at my near cascade into the dark. Shaking my head, I sigh. Twenty-eight years ago today and I can recall it with perfect clarity my Joining. I choke down the vile darkspawn blood, my mind reeling and my heart still hurting from my loss, my dearest Nelaros, oh how I failed you. I could almost laugh at my insincerities to that man, my husband, but to do so would be to invite gloom into my heart. I was a good wife for all of two days before my insufferable ability to not keep my mouth shut killed him. I grasp the tie around my neck and feel the familiar coolness of his wedding band,

Forgive me, my husband, I am sorry.

What a fool I was. What an unmistakable fool of a woman I was...I lied to him, kept my denial at arm's length for so long. Yes, I was to some measure...happy when he died. I was gladdened that my husband died. My stranger-husband of two days run down at the edge of a guard's blade to rescue me. Someone not worthy of rescue, someone who mildly rejoiced at his demise and who had the audacity to mourn him, to still mourn him. I never loved him, never cared but I tried, if things had worked out differently I would have tried to love him, to come to love him but we were parted before I could learn the virtue of selflessness and to shrug off my own damned selfishness. Alas, Nelaros paid the price in full for my youthful boldness. My first victim of love and not my last.

My last is still in this world, also broken. I broke him too; I snap a piece of debris which has built up over the centuries and sigh, flinging it into the flames to be engulfed and I am reminded; a sweet memory, one which I welcome with open arms for it causes my tummy to swell and my heart to soar. In the past I travelled with companions, all friends of mine, all cherished and none forgotten as I take this final journey. I can see all of their faces like they have been frozen in time; they will always be as they were to me then even if they were to emerge from the fire laughing and toasting their ales to me, I would see no less than the good people which they were then. No matter what had become of them after my departure from Ferelden. To my regret...I miss them.

I miss Alistair. My eyes lift from the floor and I stare into the flames, seeking answers from them as though they could give me them. They don't and of course, I look away in disgust. My own weakness was letting him go...and my strength. I recall the light go from his eyes as I abandoned him to his crown; even though we had fought bitterly over what I had thrust on his shoulders, even though he hated me for the cruel injustice I had dealt to his happiness, he still believed we would face the Archdemon together...He was always a fool. My lips pressed to his for the last time and I remember his rigidness as I opened my eyes and smiled reassuringly; he could always be reassured by my grin and I felt the lump in my throat as I gripped the neck of his armour, clutching it like a barrel ready to be emptied; I dragged him past me and threw him down onto the ramparts; tears in my eyes as I looked over the short wall and he glared up at me, betrayal keen and poignant in his own eyes I think he did not see the hurt in my expression; plastered over it was hardness. The same hardness which took precedence at the Landsmeet. He recognised that of course. If I close my eyes I can hear his shout, his cry as he realised what I was doing;

"Stop her! Oghren, stop her!"

The dwarf, that little bastard, drunkard, dishonourable warrior, casteless and blustering; one of my best friends stood fast, his axe bared as he stood before me, barring me from the Archdemon and my final stand. I lunged forward without a thought and punched him squarely on the mouth which would have made him proud any other time, any other moment. I heard his strangled groan as I brutally threw him aside just like Alistair, and he raised an anguished cry for my restraint before he too fell behind into the wake of my definitive and solo assault against the Archdemon. Only one other blocked my path, only one and I saw her bright brown eyes flash once and she stepped aside smoothly as if she understood and agreed. Morrigan nodded her dark head and did not question me as I bounded past her, flinging one final frantic gaze behind me I saw them all; Alistair's despair clung to my heart as I tore my eyes away and ran through the barricade which was flanked by soldiers, elves and dwarves.

"Do not let the King pass through here or I'll kill you all myself!"

The last thing the mouthpieces of her tale ever heard her say; they would tell tales of how the brave Warden sacrificed herself for her fellow Grey Warden, the King and her companions...they would never know the truth. That she didn't fear death then, not ever...Not when it was those whom she loved whose lives hung in the balance. Alistair, Shianni, her father...Oghren, Sten and Leliana, of course she would lay down her life for them. Again with putrid self-denial, the reasons she 'sacrificed' so much was sheer cowardice. How could she live on while Alistair ruled as king with another woman as his Queen? How could she rebuild an Order? One little elf...no, she could not and so she fled to the easiest exit and that exit happened to be her own doom; but she only did it to preserve her own heart, her own sense of responsibility; she didn't want it. Like a child she symbolically stamped her foot and decided that it was she who would slay the Archdemon. Selfishness was her one fault of character. She would not deny it to herself but to anybody else, she'd deny it to her very last breath.

I am a coward. That is all that is to be said, a coward who feared responsibility and duty and I paid for it dearly. My tale of honour, bravery, duty and sacrifice were all for nought when I returned from the precipice of the Fade; when my eyes opened to reveal that vile old woman, Flemeth. The one – in a weak moment of compassion, or was it stupidity? – I let live, despite what Morrigan had asked of me...I let old Flemeth walk and lived – and died and lived again – to regret it.

"Ah, look at this; you're awake...Such trifles, I thought you were too lost." Flemeth cackled over me as I sat up;

"What's going on? Flemeth? Is this a dream?"

"Hardly. Not a very dreamy ending is it; the hero dies; her beloved distraught and her friends scattered. No. It is not a dream – I brought you back."

"Why?" I demanded through gritted teeth; I did not want to be brought back!

"Why ever not? You gave me your blood when you came for the Grimoir, did you not wonder what it was that I would do with it? Or are you fool enough to believe that I had no uses for it the moment it left your body?"

Ah yes. My blood in exchange for the Grimoir; I had wondered what the hag would do with it but I was too busy revelling in not having to fight the crafty old crone to really pay much mind.

"So...Is this how we do things now, eh, Flemeth?" I asked in a tone which masked my sadness with brevity;

"I spare you and you save me...Twice?"

Another hearty cackle; "Aha! I knew there was something I liked about you, but hardly. I will not extend you this favour again and you will not see me again, Warden. That, I promise you. I could sing you a thousand oaths and that one will be the most consistent. The Blight is done and dead; but there are still enough darkspawn out there to possibly make my saving you completely moot. Are you following me, girl?"

"Yes..." I said slowly, "Hopefully they finish me off then."

"Mmm, you never know." The hag said thoughtfully as light engulfed her wizened frame; the clearing aglow with her unearthly radiance, so bright it burned my eyes;

"Do not look for pity here; you have had enough. The only pity you will never grow in short supply of, though, is your own for yourself. Clean up the remnants of this Blight, Warden. That is what you're good for now. Farewell."

And it was. It was all I was good for, and even now I can't believe that I was forced to live on and simply exist. Watch as people sung songs of my triumph, wept at my death and rejoiced in my heroism. Heroes are only what they are perceived to be and not what they truly are which is flawed. Loghain was flawed. I am flawed which is something I know only too well...something which means something to someone, to someone who knew me and who I knew in return.

The new King of Ferelden was spectacular, lean and fit in a shining golden breastplate, his fair beard now outgrown and his appearance much more kingly than the rangy boyish Warden I knew and loved. I was there during his coronation, King Alistair was loved by all; he smiled only a little sheepish, cradling my not even cold dead body knocked the naivety, the loveliness out of him; I could see it from where I stood in amongst the crowd, hooded and cloaked; his eyes, they did not laugh as they once did. I thought to maybe reveal myself but that would only raise questions and had I not wanted this? Had I not schemed with Arl Eamon before the Landsmeet to betray Anora and place Alistair on her throne? Yes I did. I deserved this brutal punishment worse than death; I betrayed Alistair's naivety, his trust that I had a care to his happiness.

It was to be a death lived; to forever see but never touch, to forever hear the lies and larger-than-life tales and not be able to correct them. To never feel anything ever again; that was my punishment and my redemption all at the same time.

All that remained for me, my husk of an existence was darkspawn.

A monument erected in my image, my glory was placed in the middle of the once-Alienage I had grown up in; I visited once every year for a good few years of my sentence; after a time, the visits dwindled but there were always stories and rumours; King Alistair still visited, always and every year without fail even when I did not show. Even when in un-death I let him down; that says more about me than I suppose is needed. Flemeth forced me to commit to my duty as a Grey Warden; the old cow didn't even see it fit to cure the taint when she resurrected me; I was bound to live another thirty years as a Warden; the forgotten Warden, the stopper of the Blight, the Hero of Ferelden but I could reap none of the rewards, the pleasantries of companionship; the touch of my love's lips on my own...none of that was bequeathed to an unworthy hero. No, the Maker saw fit to bombard me with a lonely continuation where one must watch and protect silently and without thanks.

A Grey Warden, indeed. Finally.


End file.
